20. Jack
JACK
I ’m in my office before seven, the city still gray and yawning outside the windows, as if even Manhattan isn’t ready for what this day is about to become.
Leo Santiago is already waiting for me, slouched in the armchair by the bar like he owns the place.
He’s in jeans and a blazer, sipping espresso like it’s whiskey, looking every bit the fixer I remember, calm, sharp, dangerous in a subtle way.
“I pulled the article,” he says without waiting for a greeting. “But it won’t stay buried unless we give them something better to print.”
“Define better,” I mutter, loosening my tie.
“Better than the truth,” he replies.
My jaw tightens. Leo only speaks in half-truths and strategic lies. It’s how he made his name cleaning up corporate disasters and political landmines. He’s also the reason the media never found out about the kid.
“What does Derek have on me?”
Leo pulls a file from his bag and tosses it on the table. “Not much that isn’t already sanitized. But he’s pushing a version of you that looks like manipulation. Player. Strategist. Someone who seduced Ivy to steal her away. He’s painting you as someone who can’t be trusted.”
My chest is tense. That last part? It’s not just strategy. It’s personal.
“What’s your plan?” I ask.
Leo eyes me. “Depends. Are you ready to go nuclear? Or are you still trying to protect her?”
I don’t answer. Because both are true.
Leo leans forward. “Here’s the strategy.
We distract. Give them a new headline. A different story.
We release a piece on your new investment, your company’s expansion, your philanthropic push, the STEM initiative.
We spin the ‘player’ narrative into ‘reformed powerhouse with a purpose.’ If we beat Derek to the next headline, we control the frame. ”
“And if that’s not enough?” I ask.
“Then we outplay him. We dig. We find what he’s hiding and leak it first.”
When Leo leaves, I try calling Ivy. She doesn’t pick up.
At five-thirty, I’m standing outside her building. I spot her cab first, then her figure behind the glass, her profile backlit by fading light.
When she steps out, my breath catches. She looks good. Gorgeous, even. Confident. Like last night never rattled her. Like my secrets don’t have the power to undo what we built. Except they do. I take a step forward, heart pounding. She sees me, pauses. Her lips part, but she doesn’t smile.
"Jack," she says, folding her arms.
"Ivy."
Her voice is cool, her guard up.
“Did you know Gina Miller came to my office today?” she asks.
Everything in me freezes.
“She dropped off an envelope. Said you’re not the man I think you are.”
She doesn’t look angry. Just tired. Hurt.
“What did you do?” she asks quietly.
For a second, I think about lying. About protecting her from the ugliest parts of my past. But the truth is already leaking out.
“I made mistakes,” I say.
“That’s not news,” she replies, her voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it.
“But I never lied about what I feel for you. That was always real.”
She holds my gaze for a long, aching beat.
“Then tell me everything. Right now.”
I part my lips, ready to speak, ready to tell her everything I've buried for too long. My phone buzzes sharply in my pocket.
Leo.
His name lights up the screen like a warning.
I press the side button to silence it, pulse pounding.
Ivy watches me, her eyes steady, expectant, unmoved by the interruption.
She doesn't ask who it is. She doesn't need to.
She's waiting for truth, for trust, for the version of me I’ve never fully shown anyone.
I swallow hard. “Not here.”
“Then where?” she asks.
I step closer. Lower my voice. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere private.”
She hesitates, then nods, but I can feel the shift already. We’re not on even ground anymore. She still wants the truth. I just hope I’m not too late to give it to her.
We walk the short distance to a nearby café tucked between two stone buildings. It’s dimly lit inside, all exposed brick and low music, the kind of place where no one bothers to listen in. She orders tea. I get black coffee, even though my stomach’s too tight to drink it.
When we sit, she pulls the envelope out of her bag. It’s thick, unsealed. She slides it across the table without a word.
“Open it,” she says.
My throat goes dry. I do.
Inside: photos. Me, years ago, with a woman I haven’t seen in nearly a decade.
A photo of her leaving my father’s building.
A birth certificate, redacted, poorly formatted, and inconsistent with state records.
It’s obviously a forgery. My father’s way of tightening the screws. A lie wrapped in bureaucracy.
Ivy doesn’t speak.
“She was a mistake,” I say finally, voice low. “A long time ago. We weren’t in love. We weren’t even dating. It happened fast. One night.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “Is there a child?”
“Yes,” I say, though the word sticks in my throat. “At least... I think there is. But lately, I’ve started to question even that.”
Silence falls again.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Because it’s not my secret alone. The mother didn’t want anything. No attention. No headlines. My father’s team handled support. Secretly. But I never signed that birth certificate. And lately, I’ve been wondering if I was just the convenient choice.”
I lean forward, trying to catch her gaze. “I didn’t marry her because I didn’t love her. That’s the difference between me and Derek. I’ve never faked it. Not once. Not with you.”
Ivy exhales, slow and shaky.
I reach across the table, palm up. “I’ll tell you everything. No more delays. But I need to know you’re still in this.”
She doesn’t take my hand. Not yet. But she doesn’t walk away either.
Across the table, her eyes finally soften. “Was it your idea to keep it secret?”
“No. I wanted to be part of it, but the arrangement was handled by my father. I... didn’t push hard enough to change that. I regret it. Every day.”
The envelope lies between us like a wound. I can see her trying to decide if she’s ready to touch it again.
“I don’t care about your past, Jack,” Ivy says quietly. “I care about what you do now.”
She finally places her fingers lightly over mine.
A thread of contact. Fragile but real. But even as her fingers rest on mine, I can see the questions in her eyes.
Not just about the past, but about what else might be coming.
What else I haven’t said. Because the truth isn’t always a single confession.
Sometimes it’s a chain. One broken link at a time.
“I want to know everything,” she repeats, softer now. “I want to believe I can trust you.”
“You can,” I say. “But I know that’s not something I get to claim anymore. I have to earn it.”
Outside, the sky has deepened to navy. The café lights reflect in the glass, turning the world around us into a blur of movement and shadow. Ivy stares out at it for a moment, her profile lit by amber light. Then she turns back to me.
“Then let’s start with this,” she says, tapping the envelope. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
And this time, I don’t hesitate.
“Yes,” I say. “There is.”
She tenses, but doesn’t flinch. Her eyes don’t leave mine.
“Then tell me,” she says. “No more delays. No more lies.”
I take a breath. “If she’s mine, my father uses her to keep me in line. Every deal, every vote, he warns me that one wrong move and everyone will know. About her. About the kid. About me.”
Ivy’s brows draw together. “That’s why you’ve stayed so tied to the company.”
I nod. “It’s why I didn’t leave when I wanted to. Why I didn’t fight harder when Derek got promoted over me. I’ve been trying to keep everyone safe. And I thought if I stayed quiet long enough, maybe it would all fade.”
“But it didn’t,” she says. “And now it’s here.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “And if you stay, I can’t promise it won’t get worse before it gets better.”
Ivy doesn’t blink. Her gaze is unwavering.
“That’s not what I asked,” she says. “I asked if there’s anything else.”
I hesitate.
“There’s one more thing,” I admit. “And this one... it might change everything.”
Her hand tightens over mine again. Not as reassurance. As warning.
“Start talking.”
I breathe out once, slow. “The company board. My father’s replacement plan, it wasn’t Derek. It was never supposed to be Derek. It was me. But I turned it down when I found out the condition.”
She leans in slightly. “What condition?”
I stare at the table, then at her. “That I marry into legacy. That I marry you.”
Her face goes still.
“The engagement to Derek,” I say. “It wasn’t his idea. It wasn’t even his decision. It was part of the deal. If I didn’t take the reins, someone else would. So they gave you to him.”
The color drains from her face, and I want to take it back. Not the truth, never the truth, but the way it landed.
“He knew?” she whispers.
“He didn’t just know,” I say quietly. “He agreed.”
Her mouth parts slightly, then closes again. I can see it, the moment something inside her fractures. Not loud. Just a silent, clean break.
“So I was... a business deal…but I thought Derek loved me. I thought at least that part was mine.” she says. Not a question. Just the shape of a truth that’s been stalking her all along.
My heart aches. “You weren’t a business deal. Not to me.”
“But you knew. You let it happen,” she says.
“I fought it. I left. That’s why I gave it all up.”
She pulls her hand away slowly, not in anger but in distance. “You didn’t just break ranks, Jack. You broke something in me.”